


Down in the dark and deep

by happydaygirl



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Awesome Athos, Caring Brothers, Claustrophobia, Darkness, Hunted, Hurt!Aramis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5367095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happydaygirl/pseuds/happydaygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an ordinary rainy day for the Musketeers until a convicted killer- with a connection to Aramis- is reported to have escaped from prison. Tasked with finding him, they managed to trap him in the catacombs beneath the city streets. As they venture down to find him things go from bad to worse... will the hunters become the hunted?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rain tinkered onto the roof of the stables in the garrison training ground, sending rivets of water down onto the ground below. Grey clouds bobbed and misted overhead, and there was a peculiar silence as the rainstorm continued it's barrage of the City. Aramis sighed, taking another swallow of his warmed ale; it was the only upside of rainy days like this.

D'Artagnan was sat next to him; the wet air made his hair flatten to his head, and he looked as miserable as the other Musketeer felt. The younger man threw a stone onto the sandy training area, watching as it skittered over puddles and came to rest in a pile of sodden hay. 'So much for a training session,' he muttered, pulling his coat around him.

'There'll be other times, lad.' Aramis smiled across at him. 'At least no one will get an injury slipping up- you'll be really complaining then!'

'S'pose….' D'Artagnan agreed, nodding at his friend with a smile. 'I'm just bored.'

Aramis nodded at that: since he and d'Artagnan had been booked in for a morning training session, Treville had given Athos and Porthos work instead of them, and now they were at quite a loss for activities.

'Well, perhaps the others will be back soon,' he reasoned, stretching his own unused muscles, 'and then we can take the horses for a run...' He stopped, a grin forming on his face as he spied two familiar figures trudging through the gates. 'Speak of the devil!' He chuckled, raising a hand in welcome as Porthos and Athos slowly made their way towards them.

'Had enough of the rain, too?' D'Artagnan asked, sniffing as they came level. Athos looked sideways to Aramis; his eyes were dark, and at once Aramis knew they hadn't returned to seek shelter from the rain. 'What's happened?' He asked as the smile slipped off his face, voice low as he looked from Porthos to Athos. 'What's wrong?'

'Duval.' Porthos growled, eyes narrowed.

D'Artagnan looked from one Musketeer to the other; he had been with them for the past few weeks, and as much as he enjoyed their tutelage and company, he was still often left in the dark when they had conversations about things he knew nothing of. He knew the name must herald something bad, as Aramis clenched his fist around his ale tankard and had to take a steadying breath before asking 'what of him?'.

'He's out, Aramis.' Athos said, his voice steady and measured.

'Out?' Aramis' voice hinted at indignation. 'What do you mean, out?' He looked across at his two friends, and d'Artagnan could see that even in the grey light of the day that his face was ashen white. 'They can't have let him out?'

'No, Mis, they didn't.' Athos replied, looking across to Porthos. He licked his lips, unsure of whether to continue, but reasoning his friend had to know. 'He escaped.'

Aramis's eyes went wider than d'Artagnan thought eyes could go. 'What?' He asked, the word urgent. 'What did you say?'

'He killed two guards and the Musketeer assigned to guard him,' Porthos ploughed in, figuring if he had to know he better know the truth. The Musketeer had been a relatively new addition to the team, but he knew his loss would be felt within the garrison.. 'Then he hid in the bushes until nightfall and made his escape.'

'I can't believe this...' Aramis put his hands in his head, shaking it a little. D'Artagnan had never seen the normally jovial Musketeer lose control like this- he looked across to Athos, who gave him a small reassuring nod to let him know that the other man would be ok. He watched as Armais breathed in deeply, straightened up and looked back at the two men with a controlled measure of calm. 'When?'

'Last night.' Athos replied, leaning against the wooden struts of the training area. 'The alarm was raised about two hours ago. We had a look for him but he's vanished.'

'Right,' Aramis nodded, breathing in deeply. 'Alright- so, what are our orders?'

'Treville doesn't want you anywhere near the case,' Athos replied, already preparing for the onslaught, 'given your...history, as it were.'

'He seriously thinks he can just-'

'Yes, I do.' Treville's voice cut in from behind them. Aramis stood and turned, eyes dark as he opened his mouth. Treville put a hand up to stop him, 'I understand you want to help- but after everyone that happened before I deemed it unwise to put you in that situation again.'

'What happened last time won't happen again!' Aramis replied, 'I promise.'

'I can't take that chance,' Treville shook his head, eyes apologetic but firm. 'I can't lose two Musketeers to this man.'

'Aramis has as much as a right to help find him as any other man,' Athos put forward, giving his captain a minute shrug, 'at least he'll be with friends this time.'

'We'll make sure nothing happens,' Porthos agreed with a nod- Armais looked up at his two friends, a grateful smile now on his face.

Treville sighed, but seemed to relent. 'I want an end to this- find him. Dead or alive.' He added before giving his men a hard nod and turning away. 'Take the boy with you.'

D'Artagnan withheld a nervous gulp as three pairs of eyes suddenly pounced on him. Athos gave a nod before turning away to sort out his weapons. 'We leave in ten minutes- be ready.' He ordered, before walking away to speak with Treville.

D'Artagnan stood as the two remaining musketeers exchanged looks. 'What's so bad about this guy?' He asked, a frown creasing his eyes.

'He's a vicious maniac with no place in civilised society.' Aramis answered shortly, eyes dark-d'Artagnan knew this was a good an answer he was going to get at the moment, so he let it drop a little. 'We better get going.' He finished; Athos made his way back to them, face stoic and ready. He looked at Aramis, eyes roving and seeming to pierce his soul. 'I'll be fine,' Aramis told him, to which Athos nodded. 'I know you will be.' He replied, and as a foursome they walked back out the garrison to the city. 'We'll make sure of it.'

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rain had begun to die away as they made their way through the sodden streets of Paris. Everywhere they looked people were hurrying to and fro before making their ways home- word got around fast about the flurry of activity from the Musketeers. Many had been drafted in from other missions and tasks, and their presence was like a wave as they searched Paris for Duval. They had forgone their horses for their feet- many of the other musketeers were on horseback, but they wanted to be quick on their feet if they did spot him.

'What if he's already made his escape?' D'Artagnan asked, looking across to the other three men waking in silence beside him. 'If I was him I would try and get as far away from here as I could.'

'He could never get far enough.' Aramis growled.

'We'll find him.' Athos added, voice hard. 'No matter what it takes.'

D'Artagnan opened his mouth to ask what had this man done to make them all hate him so- as he did so there was a high scream from a street to their left.

'Lord, no...' Aramis whispered, before the four of them took off running in the direction of the panicked cries and shouts of the Parisians. 'Out the way!' Porthos yelled as they fought their way through the sudden clamour.

A woman had her head in her face, tears leaking from her eyes as she looked upon the scene- a man was lying on the ground, blood obscuring his face. His neck had been viciously cut; blood ran in rivets as it joined the water soaking the streets.

'Oh, God...' Athos growled, crinkling his eyes a little. He noticed a young girl at his side, barely coming up to his knee; he put his gloved hand over her eyes and pushed her into the direction of her parents, who picked her up and hurried her away.

'Where did he go?!' Aramis was asking some of the witnesses, 'where?!'

'I saw a man in a black cloak run that way-' a younger man called over, pointing to a long alleyway to their right.

'Quick- we may still catch him!' Athos shouted, and the four of them took off running in the direction the man had pointed in. Aramis was off the mark first; he ran faster than the others, and soon he was alone as he ran through the deserted backstreets- he skidded to a halt as he turned a corner and ran head first into a cloaked figure who had been hiding around it. They both sprawled on the ground- Aramis groaned in pain before a well aimed kick found it's mark in his stomach. Struggling up he caught sight of the man he had knocked over as his hood was pulled down. 'Duval!' He yelled, launching himself at the other man with a snarl.

The man was older, but wiry- he pulled himself away with a broad laugh; the sound made Aramis feel sick.

'Aramis, is that you?' He asked, his voice laced with poison. 'Dear god, it is!' They both stood up, breathing heavily.

'Duval, you come quietly or you come dead, whichever you prefer.' Aramis growled, hand already at his sword.

'I think not,' Duval answered with a sickening smile. He stepped closer, and was just opening his mouth to speak again when they both heard the shouts of the other three.

They locked eyes for few seconds, during which Duval gave another horrible smile and Aramis glared across at him. 'I'm not going back.' He promised, before launching himself at the Musketeer- Aramis instinctively covered his face and let himself drop to the ground- he had enough dealings with this man to know that he had a knife in his hands. The punch to his face caught him off guard and he felt his nose start to bleed beneath his hands as he clutched at it.

Suddenly the pressure of the other man on him lessened, and he turned his head to see him running down the street again, closely followed by Porthos and d'Artagnan.

'Aramis?' Athos' voice sounded far away. 'Aramis, you need to get up!' He groaned as he felt two hands clasp themselves in his coat and heave him upright. 'Come on, that's it...' He heard Athos mutter, before he swore as he caught sight of his face. 'Are you hurt anywhere else?'

'He got away again..'

'Aramis! Are you hurt anywhere else?' Athos took a look at him at arm's length, before running his hands around his stomach. Relief tinged when his hands came back dry and not red with blood.

He gave a long sigh as he collected his thoughts- Aramis ripped himself from his grasp and wiped the blood from his nose. 'We've got to get after him!' He muttered, before they both turned as they heard lone footsteps coming up behind them.

'Found...him...' D'Artagnan panted- he had evidently just sprinted back.

'Porthos?' Aramis asked, panic rising as he saw he was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't lose Porthos too.

'Guarding...the door..' D'Artagnan replied, before giving a cough. 'He's making sure he won't get out.'

'Get out?' Athos was confused. 'Get out of where?'

'The catacombs.' The younger man explained, before waving his arm to get the others to follow. 'Porthos closed the door on him.' Athos and Aramis exchanged a look before following- they quickly made their way through a leafy part of the city before drawing level with a large church. They ran the length of a large, crumbling grey wall, at the end of which stood a large black door. Porthos stood in front of it, a hard look on his face.

'He ain't going anywhere fast.' He stated as they stopped in front of him. 'I ordered the keeper to lock up the other entrances, leaving just this one.' He then produced a key and twirled it in his hands, 'only thing is, I've just locked this one.' He tucked it in his pocket. 'Oops.'

'You can open it back up,' Aramis muttered, voice dark as he wiped the last of the blood from his nose. 'I'm going in.'

'Like hell you are!' Athos growled, shaking his head. 'He's not getting out- we just wait and go in to retrieve him in a week or so.'

'I want him alive.'

'Treville said-'

'I don't give a damn what Treville said-' Aramis gave him a long hard stare. '-death is too good for this man.'

Despite himself, Athos wavered under the hard expression of his closest friend. 'I...this is madness...' He started.

'Sometimes you have to fight madness with madness, my friend.'

Athos looked to the others, but he knew they were firmly on the side of the man in front of him. 'I give the commands,' he said, finally giving in. 'If I say stop you stop, alright?'

'You have my word.'

'Good.' He took a deep breath and nodded for Porthos to unlock the door. 'Treville said get him dead or alive- at this moment I'm inclined more towards the dead part,' he muttered as the door opened. A warm, fousty smell caught their noses- d'Artagnan crinkled his nose but said nothing.

'We keep as quiet as we can.' Athos muttered, looking back at the other three. 'Ready?'

'No,' Porthos snorted with a shrug, 'but let's go.'

Athos nodded and made his way through the door. 'Close it once we've lit the torches.' He ordered, and together they carefully picked their way into the corridor. He hoped this would be quick- he had heard stories of this place, and he only hoped most were untrue... Once the torches that were lined up against the wall were lit he nodded to d'Artagnan, who swung the door shut behind them all, enveloping them in total darkness apart from the orange glows of their torches.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys venture into the catacombs, until something terrible happens...

'I didn't think it'd be this dark.' Porthos muttered, licking suddenly dry lips and peering round. Apart from the circle of orange flickering light cast by their torches, the world beyond them was dark and pressing; the smell of old water, old rocks and old dust assaulted their noses as they took their first deep breaths.

'Did you expect light?' Athos replied, also looking around as he calculated their next steps.

'Well, no- but it's so...suffocating.'

'This place wasn't made for the living, my friend.' Aramis reminded him. D'Artagnan, who grew up far away from the bustling city, looked round at him with quizzical wide eyes. 'What's down here?' He asked.

'Bodies, d'Artagnan,' Aramis replied in a grim voice. 'Millions of them.' D'Artagnan gave him a horrified look, making the older man hold in a chuckle.

'Come on,' Athos muttered, brandishing his torch in front of him. The heat made his face warm, but he was grateful for it. 'Let's get going.'

The four of them started walking in silence, the only sounds being their light footfalls and the drip dripping of water droplets falling from the ceilings of the tunnels onto the damp floors below. As the tunnels delved deeper into the catacombs the four of them had to bend slightly, stooping down so their heads didn't hit the top of the tunnel.

Finally, d'Artagnan could not hold in his curiosity any longer. 'Why are there millions of bodies here?' He whispered at Aramis, who was the closest man to him.

'The cemeteries were getting, well... full. There was too many to bury and not enough plots in the graveyards. They tried mass graves, pits, everything.' The older man explained, making sure to keep his voice quiet. 'One night there was a huge flood,' he continued, sighing a little as he looked around. 'Bodies, bloated and decomposing and skeletal alike, came floating out through the hastily made graves and ended up beached outside people's homes.'

'Not a nice thing to wake up to.' Porthos added with a dark chuckle.

'Quite- in the end they went into these disused mines, dug around in them for a while, and they started piling the bodies in here.'

'Where?' D'Artagnan looked round, not finding any sign of bodies; he gave out an involuntary cry as he tripped over something on the floor and threw his hands out to the sides of the tunnel.

'You've put your hand on one.' Porthos muttered, bringing his torch closer so the younger man could see. D'Artagnan looked and gave a shudder, moving away from the wall- he had put his hands on a skull that, along with thousands of others, had been built into the walls of the tunnel.

'That's disgusting!' He whispered, wiping his hands on his trousers.

'Desperate times...' Aramis shrugged, before they continued on their way.

They walked for a few more minutes until Athos stopped, flinging his hand up so the others stopped. 'What?' Aramis asked, instantly alert.

'The tunnels fork here.' Athos replied. 'I don't know which one to take.'

'So, who brought the map?' Porthos joked sardonically.

'There's no map of this place,' Athos stated, as if the question had been serious. 'No one's been down here for years.'

'So which way do we go?' D'Artagnan asked, 'do we split up?'

Athos turned to him, giving him a look. 'I think not- the last thing we need is for two of us to get lost.'

'Uh, chaps-' Aramis called from the other side of the tunnel, peering into something dark on the floor. 'I don't think we need to worry about which tunnel to take.'

'Why?' Porthos asked as they walked over to him. 'Whats that?'

'That, my friend, is a ladder.' Aramis whispered, before he nodded to a large wooden disk that had been dislodged to the side of the entrance. 'The lid has been taken off.' He looked up to Athos, who regarded him with a concerned expression on his face. 'Duval must have taken it off as he went down there.'

'Aramis...'

'The longer we stand here speaking the more chance he has to get away!'

'Why would he go down there? He has tunnels to run through here-'

'He said to me that he wasn't going back to prison. He went down here to lose us and he hoped we wouldn't follow.' Aramis growled, eyes flashing even in the darkness. 'We have to go down there!'

Athos sighed, weighing up his options. If he didn't go down there, and he was in the tunnels ahead of them, he would be seriously angry at his friend...but Aramis seemed so sure.

'How long are these tunnels?' He asked, turning to Porthos.

'I heard they're about 200 miles long,' he replied in a dark voice. 'They go almost the length of Paris.'

Athos sighed again, knowing time was slipping away. 'We stay together. We go down, we have a look, and if we can't find him we come back up when I say so- alright?' He asked, looking at Aramis in particular. 'Is that fair to you?'

'I'm not a child, Athos.' Aramis replied, but he nodded as his friend gave him a hard look. 'Alright,' he muttered, handing him his torch. 'Hold this, I'll go down first.'

Athos nodded and took it, before stepping back as Aramis started to climb down the ladder.

'Here goes nothing.' He muttered, raising his eyebrows as his head disappeared below the surface and into the catacombs below.

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'You know, I didn't think it could get any darker.' Porthos whispered, his voice echoing deeply in the tighter tunnels. 'Guess I was wrong.'

'We should keep quiet here-' Aramis muttered, looking around warily as he helped tend to the torches. 'If Duval is down here, he'd hear us now.' The others nodded, their breaths now coming out in sharper sets. D'Artagnan felt his skin prickle as he looked around; the brown coloured tunnels just seemed to press in on them- he rubbed a hand down his forearm as he felt his stomach flip a little as they walked on.

Aramis was in front, with Athos very close behind, leaving Porthos and him at the rear- the young Gascon really didn't want to be the last person in the group, but he knew he couldn't say anything.

He sniffed, the smells down here were thick, like he could taste them; it smelled musty and ancient...he tried to stop himself looking at the tunnel walls for fear of looking at another skull.

He had the sudden urge to cough, but managed to suppress it; he almost sighed in relief as it passed and he was able to keep walking...seconds later he saw a flurry of dust fall from the top of the tunnel. With a thrill of horror he held his nose as it settled on his face; he tried to muffle the sneeze as best as he could, but the noise still reverberated around the cavernous tunnels.

Three faces turned to him as the noise subsided. 'Sorry...' He whispered, cheeks a little pink even in the darkness. 'Couldn't help it...'

Aramis grinned but said nothing- he knew the lad didn't mean to.

'Come on.' Athos whispered gruffly, turning away. Before they could even take their next step they heard it- a dull thump ahead of them. The sound of water sloshing followed, along with what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Each Musketeer flattened themselves to the tunnel walls, hands to their weapons. 'Thats got to be Duval...' D'Artagnan whispered. Aramis tried to crane his neck to see, his eyes fiery with anger even in the glow of the torches.

'Why would he still be down here?' Porthos replied. 'I'd be long gone by now.'

'Is that you, Aramis?' Came a sing song voice from the darkness up ahead of them. 'Come down to the tunnels to play?' A jeering laugh made the hairs on the back of d'Artagnan's neck stand up.

'Want to have a repeat of what happened the last time we met?' The threat was thrown out with venom. 'You know I'll win again!'

'He's playing with us,' Athos stated in a dark low voice, shaking his head. 'We should not give him the satis- Aramis!' Athos threw out a hand, but it was too late- Aramis stepped free of his grasp and took off down the tunnel, torch forgotten, in the direction of the laugh, which got louder above the din of Aramis' boot falls.

'Aramis, no!' Porthos yelled- Athos was running in seconds, eyes wide as he watched his friend tear down the tight tunnels. 'Aramis come back!' He shouted- his eyes widened as the tunnel suddenly turned left; the tunnel seemed to immediately get narrower. He skidded to a halt as Aramis narrowly avoided hitting his head, instead using his elbow and shoulder to take the blow at the crumbling walls.

He too stopped as an echoing crack sounded above their heads- 'Aramis stay still!' Athos shouted, before his eyes widened as the noise became more pronounced.

Aramis turned round, his own eyes wide with horror as he looked at his friend- Porthos and d'Artagnan rounded the corner seconds later. Porthos knew what was about to happen in an instant.

'Get back!' He yelled to d'Artagnan, throwing out a hand as dust suddenly cascaded down from the ceiling. D'Artagnan almost lost his balance as large rocks suddenly fell around them; in the end it was Porthos who pushed him to the ground, blocking him from the rocks with own body as the deafening noise of the tunnel collapsing rang in their ears.

Back up the tunnel Athos felt a strong hand on his shoulder grasping his coat tight- Aramis pulled him with all his might, and they both fell to the ground as dust clouded their vision and darkness enveloped them...


	3. Chapter 3

Come on d'Artagnan, it'll be dark soon!' The boy urged, pushing him in the small of the back in an effort to jolt him forwards, 'then your daddy will be worried!' The word "daddy" was high and childlike, making the other boys giggle as they pushed the ten year old forwards. D'Artagnan scowled at them- so what if his father was a little more protective of him than the other children's. Ever since Ma had passed he had kept a close eye on him, is all. D'Artagnan pushed his hair out of his eyes as he was bustled forwards by them; they were in a large ploughed field that belonged to one of the child's fathers- this naturally gave the other children free reign to run around on it and get up to all sorts of trouble.

The dark brown earth was heavy and crumbly underfoot, and his feet were beginning to ache as he and the other boys ran towards the far end, to a place nestled in a lonely corner that the others had been just dying to show the young Gascon.

'Like it?' Marc, one of the older boys, muttered, putting a hand on the younger boy's shoulder to keep him there.

'Suppose,' d'Artagnan replied with a shrug. It was a small, one storey brick outhouse that probably belonged to a groundskeeper one upon a time. It was very old, with vines of green weeds snaking up the brickwork. The windows were empty of glass and instead were adorned by spiderwebs- it looked like any old rickety building d'Artagnan had seen.

'What's so special about it?'

'You haven't heard?' One of the others boys asked, before being given a hard jab in the ribs by Marc.

'Shut it! He hissed, the freckles running across his nose visible in the sunset. He cast d'Artagnan a sideways look. 'Of course you've heard about the...well, you know...' He trailed off.

'Know what?' D'Artagnan replied, chin jutted out as the others began whispering behind their hands. 'What? Tell me!'

'You know the story of...the Grey Witch?' Marc said in a hurried whisper. 'She used to live here- until one day some men from the village burnt her alive in her house!' He added, eyes narrowed. 'Some say she's still here...'

'Really?' D'Artagnan wasn't impressed. 'Fascinating.'

'You can laugh-' Marc muttered, coming up behind the younger boy. He gave him a shove, sending him forwards into the dark room inside the building. '-say hello to her from us!' He cackled as d'Artagnan stumbled around to regain his footing.

'That's not funny, Marc!' He yelled, wheeling round in the darkness- he threw himself towards the light, only for Marc to shake his head with an evil grin and then shut the door, enveloping him in darkness.

'This isn't funny! Let me out!' D'Artagnan screamed, trying not to let his voice tremble. 'You've had your fun!' He banged on the door, ignoring the plume of dust cascade from the ceiling onto his hair. 'Let me out!' He listened at the door, anger rising as he heard the others laugh at him. Using both fists he ran at the door, pummelling it in an effort to get it open- the ceiling, ancient and crumbling, finally allowed gravity to take it's natural course.

'Help! H-help!' D'Artagnan cried, eyes wide as he heard a horrible crack. Dust poured down, and there was a noise as the bricks, old and fragile, loosened in the walls. 'Let me out! Please!' Panic made his voice whine, which made the laughter worse. 'Help! It's coming down! Help!' Seconds later, the ceiling caved in on him...

Xxxxxxxxxxx

'Everyone all right?!' Porthos yelled as the dust settled. 'Aramis? Athos?' He looked around, coughing into the back of his hand as he shook his hair free of the white dust. He rolled his shoulder, wincing as he felt bruised muscles protest; those rocks were pretty hard.

Looking round, he spotted d'Artagnan lying on the floor, breathing heavily- he could see his chest rising and falling as he fought for breath. - 'you alright?' He asked, coming round to kneel next to him. No, he noted a second later; he most definitely was not all right. 'Hey,' he muttered, putting a hand on his shoulder- he could feel the lad shaking violently under his palm, 'it's alright, you're alright...' He frowned as d'Artagnan shook his head at his words, his eyes wide as saucers. 'No, no...' He whispered, face almost entirely white with dust. 'Not again...' He gulped, his breathing erratic.

'Just breathe, lad-' Porthos muttered, 'you're alright...just breathe...'

'Porthos!' The older man turned his head as he heard Athos call his name. 'You both alright?'

'We're alright!' He called back, before looking down as d'Artagnan coughed hard into his hand, before his breathing seemed to constrict. 'Can't...breathe...' He whispered, shaky hands falling into they grasped Porthos' sleeve and gripped it tight. Small, panicked whimpers made their way from his mouth as his eyes flitted from side to side.

'Oh, Christ,' Porthos muttered- he gently wiped a hand down the younger man's face to get rid of the dust as d'Artagnan still struggled for breath. 'You need to breathe- nice and slow, in and out...' He looked the younger man in the face. 'In...' He breathed deeply in, waiting for d'Artagnan to do the same. 'Now...out...' He breathed out, nodding as he copied him. 'That's it..come on, breathe...'

'Porthos?' Athos' voice cut in. 'What's happening?'

'I think d'Artagnan is panicking!' He yelled back, putting a hand on the other man's shoulder. 'Help!'

'Come on, d'Artagnan!' Athos shouted into the rocks to the other two men. 'Calm down!'

'D'artagnan, you're alright!' Aramis yelled, guilt trickling into his chest as he and Athos tried move the rocks that now separated the four of them. 'Everything is fine!'

'Is it?' Athos muttered, 'looks to me like you just dropped a quarry full of rocks onto him.'

'I didn't mean to!'

'If you had just listened-'

'Hey, could you two fight later, perhaps?!' Porthos yelled, his voice loud and jolting even from the other side of a tonne of rocks. D'Artagnan was gripping his sleeve again, and he wasn't about to make him let go. 'That's it...just breathe...easy...' He soothed. Even he had started panicking a little as the rocks had been coming down- he had made sure the lad wasn't hurt, but he wasn't sure his shoulder would thank him for it. A few minutes of forced-calm breathing, and d'Artagnan was almost breathing normally again.

'T-hanks... He muttered shakily, wiping his sweaty face. 'I don't normally panic...'

'Don't mention it,' Porthos replied as he sat back. 'I can- sort of- deal with things like that, but broken bones- nah.' D'Artagnan gave a shaky laugh, making Porthos snort and clap a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

'You both alright now?' Athos called through.

'As we can be.' Porthos replied in a loud voice. 'How about you two?'

'Oh, I think we'll survive.' Athos muttered, turning a hard look on Aramis. 'Any ideas on how to move these rocks?' He yelled back.

'I don't think we will-' Porthos yelled as he stood and made his way to the rocks. 'They're pretty heavy...I don't think even I have the strength to lift them!'

'Give it a go- we may be able to shift it enough to let us back through!' Athos yelled, before sighing a little.

'Why do we want to go back through in that direction?' Aramis muttered, looking back towards the never-ending darkness of the tunnel in front of them; if he listened hard enough he knew he'd hear Duval making his escape. 'We should keep going!'

'And risk more collapses?' Athos shot him a look. 'I kind of like breathing and living, don't you?'

'But we could go after him n-'

'No, Aramis!' Athos' eyes were fiery now as he stepped back from the rocks to look at his dear friend. 'We have to get out of this place- it could go at any moment- d'Artagnan and Porthos could be buried under it next time!'

Aramis suddenly had a horrible vision of trying to dig Porthos and the lad out of the rocks and fell silent. He couldn't jeopardise his friend's safety and well being for his quest to deliver justice to Duval, no matter how much he wanted revenge for what had happened before. He nodded a little, eyes solemn as he looked across at Athos. 'Alright.' He muttered, 'we'll go back.'

'Good choice.' Athos nodded, before they both looked up as Porthos gave a sudden yell of warning- he yelled in surprise as a rock as big as his head suddenly dislodged from the wall and began falling forwards in his direction- Aramis pulled him backwards just in time, pulling him close to his chest as more rocks cascaded forwards.

'Bugger!' They both heard Porthos exclaim as the dust settled again. 'I think I may have taken out the wrong one!'

'Perfect...' Athos whispered, wiping his face as Aramis let him go. They both walked up to the wall of rocks again. 'There's no way we're going to dig through this...' He added.

'Well, this place is full of twists and turns,' Aramis muttered. 'We'll meet again in a tunnel at some point.'

'What if we don't?'

'Then we make our own ways out.'

'...d'you guys want to let us in on your plans?' Porthos yelled through the rocks. 'We ain't mind readers, you know!'

'Porthos, you and d'Artagnan make you're way back to the entrance- we'll go around and try and meet up with you along the way!' Aramis yelled back.

Porthos took a breath at their words, turning to d'Artagnan with a frown. 'What if they don't meet us?' He growled.

D'Artagnan shrugged as he stood up, wiping down his coat. His panic levels were still pretty high, but he knew he could control them now. 'I guess we just go and get help.' He replied.

'Guess so...' He picked up one of the forgotten torches, relieved that it was still alight. 'You got light?' He yelled at the other two. They heard a muffled scrabbling. 'Yeah...' He heard Aramis confirm.

'Alright- if you're not back by the time we reach the entrance we're sending in a search party!'

'Much appreciated, my friend!'

'Stay safe you two!'

'And you- remember Duval is still out there!'

'Shit, I'd forgotten about him!' Porthos growled.

'Lucky you.' Aramis muttered snarkily, before he pushed himself away from the wall and faced Athos again. 'If we do find him, I won't hesitate.' He stated, watching as Athos fiddled with their only source of light.

'And I won't stop you.' Athos replied, looking up at his friend as memories of their last meeting swam in his mind- he wanted Duval dead as much as Aramis, but he knew duty came first. 'You have my word.'

Aramis nodded a little, before giving a sigh as he heard Porthos muttering to d'Artagnan.

'They'll be alright, Mis.' Athos muttered, before standing ready. 'We should go.'

'Alright-' he turned to the wall and cupped his hands around his mouth. '-see you guys on the other side!' He yelled.

'Have fun!' He heard Porthos yell back. He suppressed a snort; he was grateful of Porthos and his knack of making light out of challenging situations.

'Come on then,' Athos muttered from behind him. 'Lets get going.'

He nodded and started to follow, unsure of whether this would be the last time he would hear from Porthos and d'Artagnan before they walked into the darkness of the tunnel, letting it swallow them up.


	4. Chapter 4

The damp walls only seemed to get narrower, d'Artagnan mused as he and Porthos slowly picked their way through the semi darkness. The only noises in the tunnels were their breathing and the wet thumps of their footfalls; one or twice d'Artagnan through the heard a noise, only to peer around and see nothing. He swallowed, noting how he could even hear his heartbeat in the muffled silence.

'So,' he started, eyes widening a little as Porthos stopped, put a hand on his chest and gave him a look.

'Don't do that!' He hissed, rubbing his coat over his heart. 'Give a man a warning when you're going to speak!' He added, before giving the lad a small smile. 'Gave me a frigging scare!'

'Sorry,' d'Artagnan whispered, lowering his voice. He cleared his throat as Porthos chuckled. 'So, what's with Aramis and Duval, anyway?' The question hung in the still air for a while; Porthos seemed to be collecting his thoughts.

'Well...' He began, before they both stopped as they heard a scurrying behind them- a loud chittering followed by a squeak heralded the arrival of a large rat, which bounded past the two men and carried on down the tunnel, the noise echoing loudly in the air.

'Didn't think there'd be any life down here,' d'Artagnan said, shrugging.

'Me neither,' Porthos agreed, 'probably came in when we did.' He added, before clearing his own throat. 'Duval was one of Aramis' first missions when he was commissioned.' He began, as they slowly began their walk again. 'It was the summer after Savoy, and he was still suffering with it- nightmares, flashbacks, that sort of thing.' His voice took on a sombre tone. 'I hardly knew the guy and it broke my heart watching him battle all that inside him.' He looked across to d'Artagnan, who lowered his eyes at the look in his eyes.

'Once or twice I was close to asking Treville to let him go, to retire him from soldiering so he didn't have to deal with daily reminders of a life like this.' Porthos gave a rough laugh. 'Good job I was wrong.'

'Where does Duval come into this?' D'Artagnan asked, curious.

'I'm coming to that,' Porthos nodded- the tunnel shifted here and they turned a corner, where they stepped through a doorway into the next tunnel. 'That summer there was a rash of murders- women, men, soldiers, peasants...didn't matter to this guy.' His voice turned hard.

'Tested the stomach of every musketeer that came to oversee the case- even Athos had to stop while looking at some of the bodies...he just tore into them like a butcher.' He breathed in deeply, before continuing in a hollow voice, 'Only Aramis could look at their bodies and not flinch or turn away.'

'Because of what he saw at Savoy?' D'Artagnan asked, eyes wide and a fleeting sense of horror in his belly.

Porthos nodded sadly. 'I think so, he never said.' He cleared his throat again before continuing. 'I think it was the sheer brutality of it that made Aramis take it personally in the end. He saw true horror in the forest at Savoy- unexplained, ferocious killing. This was the same- there was no reason for it .' The older man kicked a stone, listening for a while as it bounced along the corridor before landing with a plop in a puddle. 'By the end he was killing two a week- we didn't know anything about him; why he was doing it, where he was hiding...he just appeared and vanished into thin air.' D'Artagnan shook his head as they continued, before ducking their heads as the tunnel curved around.

'Aramis became obsessed at finding him. Stayed up late every night, poring over hand drawn maps he'd made of the murder scenes, conducting loads of house to house enquiries. Did better than Treville had ever wanted...' Porthos sighed. 'I think it was his way of coping with Savoy- he couldn't solve what had happened to him and his comrades there...he wanted to bring closure to the families so they didn't suffer as he was.'

'Poor guy.' D'Artagnan whispered, sniffling slightly as they turned another corner. A wall adorned with skulls was on his right; he carefully averted his eyes.

'Yeah, it was sad, watching him give his all to this case,' Porthos nodded. 'But it was, I don't know...admirable, in a way.' He coughed into the back of his hand.

'One day we got a lead- a woman hanging her washing out in her courtyard heard a commotion in the next alley down...she watched a guy in a black cloak, his hands red with blood, tear off down the street. Turned out he'd just killed the brother of a Red Guard.' He sniffed, before coughing again- he tapped at his chest before continuing.

'We were at the first at the scene, and we were the first to give chase- Aramis was faster than all of us, and pretty soon he had caught up with him. Turned out that Duval knew all about Aramis; what he was doing, how hard he was trying to catch him...' Porthos' voice turned dark again. 'He called him by his name as they stood facing each other, mocked him about what he'd done to those poor people, describing it in detail, before jeering at him about not trying hard enough to save his friends at Savoy,' Porthos looked disgusted, even in the darkness. 'He still hasn't said who told him about Savoy, or how he knew Aramis was involved.' He muttered tersely, kicking another rock.

'Aramis was out for blood after that- he nearly shot him there and then- but knew that we had to bring him in alive- there was a scuffle and Duval managed to catch him with his knife, in his chest. Duval probably thought it would bring him down, but Aramis got straight back up and ran after him, leaving us in the dust...' Porthos gave a snort. 'Aramis was too quick for him; almost dragged him down by his hair in the end. We allowed Aramis a few, uh, choice moments, with him...nothing to hurt him too bad, but enough to make Aramis feel a little better...' He gave d'Artagnan a short look, to which he replied with a knowing smile. 'He was arrested and we hadn't heard from him since.' He finished with a shrug. 'Aramis never spoke about him, never acknowledged his existence, even when younger recruits asked about the murders of that summer.'

D'Artagnan gave a low whistle, shaking his head. 'No wonder he was so angry when he escaped.'

Porthos mumbled an agreement, before he stopped short, flinging a hand out to stop d'Artagnan too. 'What?' The younger man muttered, frowning in the semi darkness. 'What's wrong.'

'Shit.' Porthos growled, eyes wide as he looked round. 'Damn it!'

'What?!' D'Artagnan was alarmed now. 'What's the matter?'

'We've passed this before,' Porthos muttered, nodding his head towards a rock with a chalk X carved onto it.

'How can you tell?' D'Artagnan replied, frowning. 'You can't possibly know that.'

'I just do... we've passed it before-' he sighed, before turning a full 360 degrees and peering around. 'Which means we're lost.' He finished. 'Perfect.'


End file.
